


Working on Our Issues

by snape_potter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Secret Snarry Swap 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-03 19:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8727559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snape_potter/pseuds/snape_potter
Summary: When Harry returns to England, he finds what he's truly looking for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This work was created by [**HDWriter**](http://hdwriter.livejournal.com/).
> 
> I also like happy endings and flangst. I hope you like the balance between the two – thank you for a fun prompt!
> 
> Written for Prompt #11 from Gin_Tonic: After the war, Harry left England (to travel, to find himself, to get away from it all, …). Years later, he returns for Christmas at Hermione's and Ron's umpteenth invitation and finds that people and the dynamics in the wizarding community have changed and are not what he expected – including Severus Snape.

_And so, Harry, I really think you should come home for Christmas this year._ The mattress shook, and Harry set aside the letter from Hermione, rolling over to find his boyfriend yawning and stretching.

"Time's it?" Scott mumbled.

"Almost eight," Harry said, running his hand down Scott's firm chest. "Time for fun still."

Scott smirked and opened one eye. "Oh, yeah? Show me what you got."

Harry got busy, kissing his way down Scott's abs and lower, Hermione's plea mostly forgotten for the time being. But later, when Scott had left for work and Harry wandered out to the greenhouse, the rest of her letter – which he practically had memorized by now – hounded him.

_I know things were bad after the war, Harry, especially for you. I completely understand why you left. But I've been telling you for a couple years now how much everything is changed. People are different; everyone has been working hard to make our society unified again – and not in a creepy way._

_My job at the Ministry is well respected. No one cares that I'm Muggle-born. In fact, in some ways I almost get more respect because of the 'unique perspectives' I bring (Kingsley actually used those terms last week, when he attended our departmental meeting). Things are good and hopeful here now – and you should be a part of it. It's just not the same without you, Harry!_

_I know you've said you have a life over there, but surely you can at least visit and see for yourself the differences. I'm sure Ron would love to see you too (and hopefully, he's actually written you once or twice to tell you so himself). And so, Harry, I really think you should come home for Christmas this year._

Harry sighed, digging his hands into the magically warmed soil as he prepared to plant some herbs. He missed England, truth be told. He desperately missed Ron and Hermione. But the memories of those first couple months after the war still haunted him – not to mention the war, itself. First, there was the confrontation with Snape, which had been devastating for Harry. The words Snape had spoken to him had ripped into his soul, and Harry had no ability at that time to fight them. They'd fractured something deep within, and even now, after years of healing and being away, his heart still ached for what he'd wanted – Snape's approval and perhaps more.

Thing was, when Harry realized Snape's true role in the war – and when he'd seen the memories and sent Kreacher to rescue him after the attack by Nagini – and Harry had watched the memories over and over during the couple weeks after the battle, Harry had seen a level of courage and determination and even protection from Snape that he'd never imagined. He'd latched onto it, and all he'd wanted was to let the man know the reversal of Harry's feelings. But that hadn't happened, and in the wake of Snape's harsh and destructive words, Harry had reeled and floundered.

On top of that, Ginny had been equal parts demanding he marry her and angry with everything and everyone regarding Fred's death. He couldn't handle her emotions on top of his own, and when he told her it was over for good between them, it had been an ugly scene.

Harry'd run off to Grimmauld before the Weasleys could kick him out, and Ron and Hermione had come with him. But not for long, as Hermione needed to see her parents. Even if she couldn't fix them, she had to know they were safe and sound. She'd asked Ron and Harry to go with her, but Harry had been 'needed' for the trials. The plan was for him to join them later, but the emotional toil of the daily rehashing of various crimes sucked more and more life from Harry.

After he testified for Narcissa and Draco (and got nothing but sneers and a "We don't need to see your scarred face again"), he'd felt especially low. It's not like he expected them to be suddenly friends, but Narcissa's protection of Draco had warmed Harry, and part of him hoped to see more of that. However, when Harry refused to help Lucius out – he'd made his own bed, after all – Narcissa had also turned her back. Harry felt like every word Snape had uttered could be nothing but the truth – he was worthless.

Rather than Australia, Harry found himself in Montana, in the States, the other direction entirely. There was a small wizarding community there which Kingsley had mentioned in passing, a village called Mizgurt. Harry'd been a mess at first. No one knew who he was (partly because he used an assumed name – Harry Evans), but he admitted that he'd been involved in the war in England. To his surprise, everyone embraced him. They helped him find his own house, they offered numerous suggestions for work, and they insisted he join in the community dinners and parties, held each Sunday afternoon.

Once the numbness wore off, which took almost six months, Harry realized he loved the wildness of the area. Tall, imposing mountains stood not far away, and the sky seemed to go on forever. It was cold during their winter, and the snow and ice covered everything – but Harry slowly warmed inside. The witches in the community mothered him extensively, and to his surprise, none of the younger witches did anything beyond act like sisters. When he tentatively asked the unofficial town leader, Ms. Truvy, about that as the first leaves appeared on the trees around their town, the older witch – who reminded him in all the best ways of McGonagall -- seemed surprised.

"Well, you're gay, no? It's in your aura."

Harry had stared and blushed and spluttered. He was gay? They could see it in his aura? Would he never stop being a freak?

But it turned out he wasn't a freak, at least not in that way. The community let him know they liked him just the way he was, and when one of the young wizards asked him out, Harry decided to give it a try. That first date didn't go so well, but in the fall, when he'd started at the nearby wizarding college (which happened to specialize in plants, botany, and earth magic), Harry discovered many wizards who were gay. 

He and Scott met during his second year, and they'd been together ever since. It wasn't a great romance, but it was comfortable, and when Harry finished his studies (in Wizarding Botany, of all things), Scott returned to Mizgurt with Harry, and they set up house in his small cottage together.

But now, as Harry leaned back on his heels and surveyed his greenhouse, he yearned for England, for his true home. "Can it really be okay?" he whispered to the magically warmed air. 

"Can what be okay?" came Ms. Truvy's raspy voice.

Harry whipped around, feeling the heat rise in his face. "Um, I was just --"

She tilted her head, peering out at him from beneath her wildly colored beanie, and something compassionate moved over her wrinkled face. "Ah. Time to go him, I'm guessing."

Harry gaped at her. "W-what do you mean?"

"We've enjoyed having you here, Boy-Who-Lived. But it's time, I'm thinking, for you to face your past and your future. You can always return to us for visits," she added, grabbing a basket with some leaves and herbs she'd asked Harry to put aside for her the previous morning.

Harry swallowed. "How did you know?" he said, his voice barely audible.

She paused before trotting over to him and reaching up to gently touch his cheek with her palm. "You have that look about you – the look of someone who has seen horrible things and survived. And your magic, of course, told me your true identity."

"Does everyone know?" He hoped not. He wanted their kindness to be based just on them, not on something they all knew he did.

Ms. Truvy smiled, like she could read his thoughts. "Oh, child. Only a few of us know, and we haven't spread it around. We figured you'd say something if you wanted. We like you for _you_ , not for the war."

Tears blurred his vision, and Harry wondered how he could want to stay and want to go in such equal parts. "I'll miss you," he blurted.

Her smile deepened. "No need for that, child. You'll see me again."

**

A week later, Harry returned to England. He did so quietly, and only Hermione and Ron knew he was coming. Ron offered his room with George, saying they could share. Harry knew how crowded it was, but for now, he took him up on it. They were meeting Hermione in Muggle London later that day.

When Ron took him up the back stairs, George stared. "Harry." He only said his name, but Harry was shocked at the warmth in George's face. "Welcome home," George added then, going back to his parchment.

"He doesn't seem that surprised," Harry commented, following Ron into the living area.

"I told him someone was staying with us for a few days. I didn't want to totally shock him, you know?"

"Right. How is he?" Harry asked, making sure the door had closed behind them.

"Hanging in there. Lots of things have changed," Ron added. "Mostly for the good, and George has helped with some of it."

Harry dropped onto the worn sofa, enjoying how it enveloped him. "So what else has changed?" he asked bluntly, tired of the roundabout answers.

Ron grinned, plopping down beside him. "Well, you know that Hermione and me didn't work out too well, yeah?"

"You don't seem too torn up about it," Harry said cautiously. He'd felt horrible when he realized the two had split up – especially because he suspected it had something to do with his disappearance, though both denied it.

Ron shrugged, still smiling. "Nope. It was pretty awful at the time, but it's all for the best. I think I wrote you that I met someone – or should I say, got to know someone I already met."

"Yeah. You didn't give a name, though."

Now Ron looked at the ceiling, a hint of nerves playing on his face. "Well, here's the thing. You know how everyone was so concerned with purebloods and Muggle-borns and tradition and whatnot?"

"Sure," Harry said, his stomach tightening. What was Ron getting at?

"Well, that's mostly gone now – at least with our group. I s'pose no one had the energy when it came down to it." He paused, blew out a breath, and said, "Parkinson. It's Pansy Parkinson."

Harry's brows shot up. "You're taking the piss…right?"

Ron shook his head, looking worried for the first time. "She's going to be at mum's on Sunday, to help welcome you back. If that's okay, I mean."

Harry blinked, trying to grasp the concept of Ron with a Slytherin – and Parkinson, to boot. "Erm, how long?" His voice sounded a little strained, but he hoped Ron wouldn't mind too much.

"Going on eight months now. She's pretty great, not to mention bloody amazing in bed."

Harry almost choked on his spit. "Ron!"

Ron grinned at him, his nerves apparently vanishing. "True. If I can't say it to you, who can I?"

Harry slowly nodded. "Okay. So you're in love with a Slytherin. A Slytherin who tried to turn me over to Voldemort. Got it."

Ron turned so he was facing Harry squarely, all teasing gone from his face. "She's not like that anymore, mate. I swear it. I would never be with someone who wanted to hurt you. _Never_. No matter how good the sex was."

Harry couldn't help it; he burst out laughing. After a second, Ron joined in, and the two of them chortled and gasped until Harry's stomach hurt. "Bloody hell. I leave for a few years, and the whole world changes." He blew out a loud breath. "How is Hermione taking it?"

Ron shrugged. "We don't talk about it much. But she's been helping George with the shop and the accounts, believe it or not. And she got Snape involved in some of the potion work, and Malfoy's been looking into ways to expand the business --"

"Wait, what?" Harry sat up straight. "What are you talking about?"

Ron sat up too. "Didn't she write you about all this? She said she would."

"She told me things had changed. She told me she loves her job – Muggle-born and Pure-blood Liaison, right? She told me I should see it for myself." He rubbed his head, suddenly feeling exhausted. "She never mentioned anything specific."

Ron put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Listen, mate. You probably have Portkey-lag, and Hermione won't mind if you miss our appointment. I'll just Owl her, and you can kip a bit, okay?"

Harry hesitated then nodded. "Thanks, mate."

Ron grinned again, and once he'd shown Harry their bedroom – with two narrow beds – he started to close the door on the way out. "Ron."

He paused.

"It's good to be home. I missed you. More than I realized."

Ron nodded, and Harry saw a glint of moisture in his blue eyes. "Me too, mate."

When Harry woke up from his nap, the sun had long set. He heard homey noises out in the main room, and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he shuffled out to join Ron and George. He'd barely taken two steps when a small form flew across the room and slammed into him.

"Oh, Harry!"

Harry buried his face in Hermione's wavy hair, his arms going around her automatically as they swayed and almost fell. Then he got his balance, and he held her even closer. "I missed you," he murmured.

"Me too, Harry. So much." Hermione was openly crying, her tears soaking his shirt at the shoulder. "Please say you'll stay. You can even bring your boyfriend, you know. No one will care."

Harry gave a tremulous laugh. "We broke up. I told him I was coming home."

Hermione pulled back enough for Harry to see her watery eyes and the incredulous – though ecstatic – expression on her face. "Truly?"

"Truly."

Ron vaulted over a chair and joined their hug, and Harry felt something he hadn't for five years – an utter sense of belonging.

During a simple but delicious dinner, which George and Ron made together, to Harry's astonishment, Harry told them about Montana and Mizgurt and Scott and plants while they sat around a small table, the snowflakes gently floating down outside the window, their color fluctuating with the fairy lights George had charmed.

Ron laughed, his eyes alight. "I never thought I'd see you becoming the Neville Longbottom of the States, mate."

Hermione rolled her eyes but also seemed radiant. "I still can't believe you just left Scott behind. Didn't he want to come with you?"

Harry shrugged at both comments. "I think Neville has a different approach to plants than I do," he pointed out. "He likes the details and purposes behind them. I just like the feel of the soil on my hands and the overall look of the garden when it's filled with bloom and growth. And Scott didn't want to come," he added, giving Hermione a Look.

Hermione ignored him, of course. "Did you ask? Or did you simply assume that?"

Harry blew out a gust of air, and Ron snorted. "Welcome back to Hermione's world, Harry. You no longer get to live without interrogation." He ducked as Hermione swatted him, both laughing again.

Harry watched them with a smile. Then he glanced at George, who wasn't laughing but who also seemed content. "How have you been?" he asked quietly, while Hermione and Ron bickered.

George gave Harry a long look. "Good enough. Getting better. Maybe I should have come with you, but I couldn't see leaving Fred behind, you know?"

Harry bit his lip. "Yeah. I'm sorry I didn't --"

"No. No apologies from you, Harry," George said quietly. "Fred never expected them – or wanted them – and neither do I. You did what you had to do. I did what I had to do. We're both figuring it out, yeah?"

Harry nodded, reaching over to squeeze George's arm. Then Hermione cut in. "You're coming to the Burrow on Sunday, aren't you, Harry?"

"If you're all sure I'm welcome." Harry took his last bite and chased it with a swig of Butterbeer. "I do want to see everyone – it's just a lot at once." The other three exchanged a glance, and Harry set his glass down firmly. "All right. What's this about?"

"Everyone wants to see you, Harry. We thought about just taking you around to small groups, but then Molly suggested we get it all over with at once – you know, like ripping a plaster."

Harry tried to remain relaxed, but his body tensed anyway. "Who's everyone, then?"

Hermione's brown eyes met his. "It's a few, but if you're planning to stay, this could be the best way to handle it. Then you could just get on with your life and not have to deal with it after this."

"How many, 'Mione?" he asked.

Ron answered. "All of us – the family -- Luna and Neville, Dean, McGonagall, Snape and Malfoy, Pansy, Kingsley."

Harry's stomach tightened further. "Why?" he managed. "Why do they want to see me?"

"Things have changed, Harry," Hermione said gently. "I've told you that. We're all working together now – even within our individual positions – to make our world better. We don't ever want another Voldemort or another Harry Potter to have to sacrifice his life. We want to move forward rather than repeat history."

"So you're saying _Malfoy_ is interested in seeing me – because he wants to move forward?" Harry had a hard time believing it. "He said he never wanted to see me again!"

"I asked him about that, back when he first came to me and said he wanted to help," Hermione said. "That was almost three years ago, and he admitted that it had been mostly embarrassment. He said it was humiliating knowing that he'd got the wrong end of things for so long, and he hadn't handled it well. He's grown up since then, Harry, I promise. We'd never let him near you if it was otherwise, no matter what he wanted."

Ron nodded. "He's still a git, but he's a git who also wants the world to progress not regress." Harry gaped at him, and Ron chuckled. "I see him often because of Pansy," he admitted. "They're best friends these days, and he's surprised me with his willingness to start over and work hard."

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, gearing up for the question he really needed the answer to. "And Snape?"

Hermione and Ron glanced at each other. "He's with Malfoy," Hermione said quietly. "He wants to see things change. You must see that --"

"Of course, he wants things to change," Harry said, pain streaking through his chest. _He's with Malfoy_ , repeating in his mind. "He hated Voldemort, hated that life. But why would he want to see me? Why now? Why not --?"

Hermione moved, but Ron beat her. He hauled Harry up and into a strong hug. "Believe me, I asked him about that day the first time I saw him again. I accused him of being the worst sort of person – of being so horrid to you it chased you away." He tightened his arms, even though Harry hadn't moved. Indeed, Harry wasn't sure he could move. _He's with Malfoy_.

Hermione cut in, leaning her head against Harry's. "He had no idea, Harry. He wasn't himself when you went to see him. He said he didn't even recall your presence, had no idea he'd said all those things to you. When we showed him our memory of it, he – well, he was devastated, Harry."

"Devastated," Harry murmured, still frozen.

"She's right, mate. I mean, he didn't gnash his teeth or tear his hair, but he was obviously upset. He wants to see you. I think he _needs_ to see you."

"But if you don’t want to see him," Hermione added, her voice firm, "we'll ask him to stay away. You're more important."

Harry closed his eyes at that, and he felt some of the tension leach away. Knowing they were on his side – first and foremost – maybe he could handle being in the same room with Severus Snape, the man who told him in no uncertain terms that he no longer had any value in the wizarding world – or indeed as a person -- now that Voldemort was dead. _Should've died with Voldemort. No place for you now. No reason – no worth. Yes, worthless, through and through now that your job is done._ Harry hadn't actively thought of that day in a while. It had been well over a year since he last had a nightmare about it. But Ron was right; it had been Snape's words more than anything else that caused him to leave.

He squared his shoulders and straightened up, finally returning Ron's hug before stepping away. George had quietly cleared the table and now sat in the connected living room, his feet on a pouf while he drank hot chocolate in a mug. Harry looked over at him, and George gave him a somber nod. "We'll be there with you, Harry. I don't think he'll say anything – I don’t think he thinks anything like that anymore – but if he even hints at it, everyone of us will have your back. We don't want you leaving again."

Harry managed a weak smile. "I'm okay," he said. "Truly. It was a bit of a…shock, hearing you all say he wanted to see me. But I've found myself, I guess you could say. I'm not that kid anymore, and even if he did say it all again, I could hold my own." 

**

Harry spent the next few days reminding himself of that as he acclimated to England again. He liked living with Ron and George, and so far, they seemed to like having him there. So he spent his energy on figuring out how to start his own greenhouse. He visited an estate agent and asked about plots of land. By Thursday, he had seen three possible locations. On Friday, Ron went with him, and they found the perfect spot – to Harry's eyes, at least. No surprise, it lay just on the Scottish side, in a magical community called Gibberisheen, the largest magical village in the area other than Hogsmeade.

Harry and Ron stood in the wet air, the clouds heavy and dark above them, the snow-rain mix plinking outside their shield. The plot of land sat partway up a small knoll overlooking Gibberisheen. Harry grinned. "This is it, Ron. This is where my garden will be."

Ron shook his head, but he gave a wry smile. "You're mad, Harry. But you know I'll support you anyway. It's a bit of a distance to Apparate every day, though."

Harry shrugged. "It'll be fine. Once the greenhouse is all set up, I'll also build a small cottage nearby – my shop – and put in a Floo."

That night, they went out with Hermione and George to celebrate. Harry had offered to invite Pansy too, but Ron waved it off. "Nah. You'll have plenty of time to meet her after Sunday. Let's just enjoy this for now." They drank their pints, laughed, talked, and teased. Harry noticed that Hermione and George were being pretty friendly by the end of the night.

He nudged Ron. "New?"

Ron shrugged. "They don't talk about it. But I think it's been going on for a bit now. Not as long as me and Pans, but a few months."

"You're okay with it?"

"Sure." And he did seem fine, Harry noticed. After a lie-in Saturday morning, Harry began putting together his plans for the greenhouse, making sure he knew which permits he'd need, along with the correct building materials. He probably wouldn't be able to get started until after the holiday, but he wanted everything ready. 

He worked hard partly to keep his mind off the next day. Seeing everyone – seeing Snape – would be his first big challenge, and he wanted to meet it with courage and strength. Although he'd admitted to Ron and Hermione how hurt he'd been that week after the war ended and he'd met with Snape, he'd never told them how deep the pain went. Ms. Truvy had known; she'd been the only one. He'd told her shortly after arriving in Mizgurt, and she'd said, "Heal up here. This is a good place for it, but know that you can't run forever. When you're ready, you'll return home and shine in the place your soul belongs."

He hadn't told her his real name, of course, but only that he'd been part of the war. Scott had known none of it, and when Harry finally admitted he was leaving Mizgurt for England, Scott had simply said, "Well, we've got a week. Let's make the most of it." He'd seemed resigned more than anything else, and although Harry hadn't invited him, Scott also hadn't asked. They spent Harry's last week in the States having more sex than Harry knew he could, and although it had been good physically, when he said good-bye, he sensed Scott was as relieved as he was to be moving on.

Thing was, Harry had never been in love with Scott. Ms. Truvy had known that too; Harry thought Scott suspected. But Harry hadn't admitted to himself that his heart had remained behind, with someone else – someone who Harry believed hated him and wished he'd died in the war. Someone whose bravery and tragic life had spoken to Harry down to his soul. Someone Harry had to face tomorrow. Someone Harry wished could value him – and more.

Harry shook himself, noticing the room had dimmed since he began sketching out his plans and making a list on George's little living room table. Outside, snow again fell, but George hadn't been up to turn on the fairy lights yet. Harry went over and used his wand to light them. For a few minutes, he watched them flitter and flirt, their bright colors reflected in the snowflakes that gently fell.

Then he turned and began cleaning up in preparation for dinner.

** 

Harry didn't sleep much that night, his frequent dreams haunted with a voice -- _that_ voice – repeating, "Worthless. Should've died."

In the morning, he briefly considered using a light Glamour to hide the dark shadows under his eyes, but then he decided to leave them. "This is who I am," he told his reflection. "I don't need to hide anymore."

Ron and George seemed oblivious to his quiet, but Harry noticed that Ron gave him a larger-than-usual cup of coffee, made how he liked it, with a strong shoulder squeeze.

Before he was fully ready, it was time to leave for the Burrow. Harry steeled himself as they stood outside the door, breathing in the chilly, fresh air. It wasn't snowing yet today, but it looked like it could start at any moment.

"Ready?" Ron asked. Harry couldn't quite find his voice, so he nodded. Ron grinned and pushed open the wooden door.

The noise and warmth reached out to all of them, and Harry felt something inside release a bit at the love he already felt. He could do this.

As they went in, Molly and Arthur were the first two to come to them, and Harry realized later that they must have organized it that way. Molly didn't say anything, to Harry's surprise, but simply enfolded him in a tight and warm hug. Arthur gave them a moment before joining them, his quiet, "We've missed you. Welcome home, son," embracing Harry's heart and dissipating even more of the tension.

When Molly let him go, Ron led him further into the house, and Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys were there, waiting with a hint of nervousness on their faces. Bill, as the oldest, stepped forward first. "Welcome home, Harry," he said quietly. "It's been too long." One by one, the rest of the group came up to greet and hug him. Only after Hermione squeezed him tight did Harry realize Ginny was missing.

"No Ginny?" he whispered.

Hermione shook her head. "She'll be here. But she thought you might not want to see her. She and Dean are coming after dinner."

Harry blinked, surprised. "I wouldn't care."

Hermione snorted, sounding at that moment like Ron. "I told her so. But she's convinced herself that you left broken-hearted because of her."

Harry's brows rose. "You're taking the piss."

"Nope. Ginny likes drama. You must remember that. It's easier for her to think you stayed away over some deep-seated desire for her than the truth." Hermione shrugged. "We all pretty much ignore her, and Dean seems to understand her. He's good for her, actually. He knows how to listen to what she's really saying and let the rest go."

Harry nodded, dismissing Ginny as he had for years. He was glad she was someone else's problem now, and he felt nothing but gratitude to Dean. Hermione led him into the family room where the rest of the group waited. Harry swallowed hard. He got a glimpse of dark eyes and hair, but then he focused on Neville and Luna, who managed to both swarm him and give the impression of letting him come to them. Harry figured it must be Luna's usual quirky ability to show him her love without any pressure. He returned both their hugs warmly, truly glad to see them. "I'm trying to get my greenhouse set up," he told Neville. "I'd love your insight."

Neville flushed with pleasure. "I think you're more of an expert than I am, Harry. You got your degree from the foremost Magical Botanical Academy in the world, after all."

Harry shrugged that off. "But you've always had an instinct for it. I truly would like your thoughts."

Luna looked between them with a happy smile, her arms around both waists. "You can probably give each other tips. We're just glad you're home, Harry," she said in her lilting voice.

"Me too," Harry said, feeling a pleasant rush as he looked at her, one of the most loyal people he'd ever met. "I'm sorry I stayed away so long."

Luna reached up and kissed his cheek. "I knew you'd come home when you were ready, Harry," she whispered. "Now we can all start to heal together."

Harry wiped his eyes against the surprised tears as he pulled Luna in for another hug. Part of him was aware of a burning gaze at his back, but he pushed that thought aside as he turned to greet Professor McGonagall and Kingsley. McGonagall hugged him, and to Harry's surprise, so did Kingsley. Both of them said they'd like to talk to him about his career endeavors, and although he wanted to turn them down flat, he managed a smile and a polite, "Sure. Maybe after the holidays."

And then it was time to face the music. Malfoy, Pansy, and Snape stood at the back of the room. Ron now stood beside Pansy, his arm around her waist, but Harry could still see the nervousness on her face. She spoke first, as if she couldn't wait another moment. "Potter. It's good you're home. I mean, I'm sorry. I never really said, and I'm truly sorry that I offered you up --"

Harry held up a hand, forestalling her rushed though earnest apology. "I'm not holding any grudges, Pansy," he said. "It was a long time ago – and a war, to boot. I think we all just wanted to survive." He swallowed hard, ignoring the other two Slytherins. "I suspect we'll be seeing a lot of each other, so I'm more than willing to let bygones be bygones." He held out his hand, and to his relief, Pansy took it in both of hers.

"Agreed," she said, soundly stronger now. She squeezed his hand. "Though I'm not sure if you can keep up with me," she added, a bit of snark in her tone.

Harry laughed, hoping no one heard the slight trembling. God, this was torture. "We'll see," he said.

Then, not able to put it off longer, he turned to Malfoy. He couldn't quite make himself meet Snape's eyes, so he pretended he wasn’t there. _Snape is with Malfoy_. Taking a deep breath, Harry held out his hand for Malfoy. "I hear you've been a big help with Hermione's plans," he said neutrally, trying to ignore his memories of their last meeting. "That's good to hear."

Malfoy seemed surprised, but he took Harry's hand, giving it a quick shake before letting go. "She's good at challenging me," he said simply. Then he paused before adding, "I misspoke years ago, you know. I very much appreciate what you did for me, for us – for our entire society. Welcome back to England."

Harry nodded, accepting the implied apology, though still not quite sure why Malfoy was here. He might be working with Hermione – and Ron said he saw him often because of Pansy – but Harry knew there was no love lost between Malfoy and him.

Then Malfoy's companion shifted his weight slightly, and Harry realized Malfoy must be here to support Snape. 

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Harry forced himself to look up at Snape. "Sir," he said simply. Snape looked almost distressed, and that shocked Harry. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I –"

Malfoy cut in. "Why don't we go and help out in the kitchen," he said to Ron and Pansy. To Harry's surprise, even Ron left without more than a quick side-arm hug, and then the room was empty other than the two of them. Harry hadn't even noticed the others filing out after their greetings. 

The sudden silence unnerved him, and he fell back on his old habit of rambling. "I was a little surprised when Ron said you'd be here. I mean, our last conversation wasn't exactly friendly." He bit his lip, wishing he could take that back. He hadn't meant to remind Snape of his disdain toward Harry.

But Snape seemed confused. "Our last conver – wait, you mean the scene Weasley showed me?" Snape lifted a trembling hand to rub the bridge of his nose. "Har – Potter, that wasn't --"

"I'm sorry," Harry blurted. "I shouldn't have said anything. I mean, you're allowed your feelings, and just because I'll be living here again doesn't mean you ever have to see me. If you and Malfoy have double dates or, erm, stuff with Ron and Pansy, I won't be there, so --"

The look of shock and confusion on Snape's face stopped Harry from continuing. After a moment of uncomfortable quiet, Snape said, "What? Why would I join Weasley and Parkinson, especially with Draco? I…don't understand what you're saying."

Harry swallowed, wishing he was anywhere but here. Why had he left Mizgurt again? "Sorry," he muttered. "It's just – Ron told me you and Malfoy were together, and --"

"Together romantically?" To Harry's shock, Snape laughed. It sounded rusty, but his amusement was obvious. "Draco is my business partner and the son of a man who was once a friend and now is…working to make up for his many mistakes. Dating Draco would be like dating my nephew, if I had such a thing."

"Oh." Harry felt his breath seize. If they weren't together, then why on earth was Snape here?

"Potter." Snape let out a whoosh of air. "Harry. I needed to see you to know, to understand, to say…."

Harry held up his hand. "Please. Don't tell me that I don't have any value or worth. I thought I could handle it now, but I can't. Not from you."

Snape's eyes widened, and again Harry saw something he might identify as distress. "Harry, that's not – it wasn't _you_."

"What?" Harry took a step closer. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't even know you were there. I – I was caught in my own nightmare, a world where I wasn't sure what was happening. I knew Voldemort was dead, but I thought –" He put his hand to cover his eyes, and this time, Harry was certain it was shaking.

"Severus," he murmured. The name came unbidden to his lips, but before he could say more, Snape – Severus – straightened, his eyes holding a burning fire and determination.

"—myself," he finally got out. "I didn't realize you were even there. I was talking to myself, giving voice to my darkest fears and beliefs. I --" He swallowed hard, closing his eyes briefly before opening them and seeming to steel himself. "I had no idea you were there, that you heard me. That you believed I was speaking about you, _to_ you. Please, Harry, you must believe me. I would never – I have never thought about you that way, even though I acted like it while serving Voldemort." By the end, his voice was a hoarse whisper, reminding Harry a bit of how he'd sounded the last time they spoke. Or apparently, the last time Harry heard him, when Severus had been speaking to himself.

When Harry didn't reply immediately, Severus slowly sagged, the fierce light fading from his dark eyes. "I understand," he murmured. "Of course, my actions and words were far too harsh. I don't deserve your forgiveness. I will endeavor to stay out of your way --"

Harry surged forward, reaching up and pulling Severus's face down and sealing his mouth over his. For a moment, he feared he'd made a huge mistake, but then Severus moaned low in his throat and yanked Harry flush against him, swiping Harry's lips with his tongue and greedily drinking him in when Harry opened up for him. All else forgotten, Harry melted into the kiss, allowing the heat and hunger and longing and relief to swamp him as he returned it with everything he had.

Presently, a quiet throat clearing got Harry's attention, and he startled away, gasping for breath when he saw Malfoy standing at the edge of the room. "Molly has supper ready," he said quietly. "Is – is everything all right?"

His eyes were on Severus, and Harry wondered if he'd been mistaken, if perhaps Severus and Malfoy had been romantically involved, despite Severus's words. But Severus immediately put that to rest. "Everything is fine," he said dryly. "Harry and I have been working out our…issues." He looked down at Harry, and the heat in Harry's face increased, if possible. "Haven't we?"

"Yes," Harry managed. "Give us a couple seconds, and we'll be in for the meal," he added. He sensed more than saw Malfoy leave the room, and Harry leaned up again. "Our issues?"

Against his lips, Severus smiled. "The issue of me pining over you, apparently, while you were hiding in the States. The issue of me having poured out my heart in the worst possible way, of me hurting you." The smile was gone now, and Harry could see a desperation in Severus's eyes. "I never meant to do that, Harry. If I had thought for a moment I could follow you to the States and fix things, I would have. But once I saw the memory of that day, once Weasley told me that you'd run and left everyone and everything behind because of _me_ …I simply wasn't brave enough."

Harry shook his head. "I learned how to find my value in Mizgurt," he said. "But I missed you. I wanted your approval all these years. I want it now."

"You have it," Severus said. "Which should be apparent."

"You have mine too," Harry said quickly. Then he grinned and leaned close again. "Which should also be apparent."

Severus kissed him, pulling him close and wrapping his arms around Harry as if to take him into himself. Harry didn't struggle but rather let him, kissing back with all he had. The bravest man he'd ever known cared for him. He could taste it, feel it. Although he'd returned to England knowing he could make a new and good life for himself here, this was the first time he'd realized it could be a happy life. A love-filled life.

He and Severus joined the others at the magically enlarged table, overflowing with sumptuous foods, their hands entwined, their steps in sync. They sat down side by side, and the joy in the room soared just as the fluffy flakes began to drift downward outside the holly-framed window.

**Author's Note:**

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